Sunday, October 25, 2009

I'll never see Paris in 1920.I'll never visit with my great grandmother at her kitchen table, or run with her through the hillside villages on the Amalfi coast.I'll never get to say goodbye to that little boy who said... "I wish you were my mother."Because he was killed a year later.I'll never get my virginity back.I'll never be sixteen again.I'll never kiss him for the first time.

But I can write myself there. All those things can be done and undone. I can write myself anywhere.

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Nursury Rhyme

Monday's child is fair of face,Tuesday's child is full of grace,Wednesday's child is full of woe,Thursday's child has far to go,Friday's child is loving and giving,Saturday's child works hard for a living,But the child who is born on the Sabbath DayIs bonny and blithe and good and gay.